Simple Acts
by stonesonearth
Summary: "It's all very simple. But maybe because it's so simple, it's also hard." [Captain Hill]
1. Begin

A/N: First of all, happy December everyone. It's been quite a while since I last updated my stories. I was busy with exams, revision and well, some real life stuff. Things have been going really well for me and thus I shall wish you the same.

Writing, on the other hand, has not been going smoothly for me. I'm not a native speaker and English, in fact, is not even my second language (it's my third actually) and it really takes a lot of effort (and time) for me to put thoughts into words, and then turn words into stories.

Here's the story I promised. I hope you'd enjoy it.

**Simple Act**

**Act 1 **

_I sit before flowers, hoping they will train me in the art of opening up._

_I stand on mountain tops, believing that avalanches will teach me to let go._

_I know nothing, but I am here to learn._

_\- Shane Koyczan -_

'The weather's good, isn't it?' her superior says. 'Coulson always liked it warm.'

She gives him a curt nod.

As people go forward and place roses on the coffin, she takes a step back and to her surprise, Fury does the same thing.

The one-eyed man turns to face her.

'How many?'

'Fifty-six or seven,' she murmurs. 'I lost count.'

'Still keeping that list?'

She doesn't say anything.

'You don't have to be so hard to yourself, Hill.'

She remains silent. Her face is stoic but her eyes are burning with cold fury.

'Still blaming me, are you?'

With a jerk in her head, she walks away from the crowd.

* * *

He stays after the service also.

He's tall. Taller than she'd imagined previously.

_Coulson wasn't exaggerating after all. _

The silence between them is comfortable. For a long while she listens to the howling wind while staring at the familiar name carved on the stone.

'I heard you were close with Phil.' He says quietly.

She pressed her lips together.

'Yes.'

'I'm sorry for your loss.'

Though his words are few and simple, she knows just how much he means it. She figures if there is someone who can understand the grief of loss as much as she does, it will be him.

'I have a question, Captain Rogers.'

'It's Steve,' he corrects her. 'You can call me Captain during missions and briefings.'

'Rogers.'

He frowns at her refusal to address him by his name, but his knitted brows relax slowly as she continues to speak.

'You lost almost everything. Time, chance, and people you love,' she says slowly. Her tone is gentler than it is just now. 'How… How do you deal with it?'

He's quiet for quite a while before he gives her the answer.

'I… try not to think about it that often, and I try to focus on things that have to be done.'

She nods. This sounds like what she always does. She then bends her knees and leaves the red poppies in front of the new grave.

_He's in a better place right now, with the God he believes in. He'll be fine. _

She stands up and turns to him.

'Do you miss her?'

He smiles slightly, and she notices his hand reaches for something in his pocket. A round object. She wonders briefly if it's an appropriate question to ask before he answers.

'All the time.'

**tbc**


	2. Invite

**Act two - invitation**

**or Natasha and Maria being best pals. **

It's strange to be here after the battle of New York.

(There and back again?)

Steve hasn't seen his handler for quite a while. Ever since the funeral, she's been busy. Natasha told him the lieutenant is the one who 'saves everyone's ass from stupid-ass authorities' so he figures she's in a lot of Avengers related meetings. Hence, while waiting for Commander Hill to come back, he's helping to train other agents in combat and also learning to fight in various martial arts.

Today's just another ordinary day in New York. He means, the _new_ New York, but everything's new to him now. Anyway. He's practising hand-to-hand combat with Natasha, who's faster and quicker than almost everyone in SHIELD. Amazingly, she's still full of energy although they've been sparring for five hours straight.

Someone's approaching them. He can hear it even though the person has a quick and light footstep. Natasha's apparently pissed, as she'd specifically asked for no one to use the gym this morning. Both of them stop their motions for a while, waiting to see who's there.

Natasha's brows relax soon after she sees who that is. She then exits the ring quickly.

'Hey.' The redhead looks delighted. Her hands outstretch, almost welcoming. 'What took you so long?'

He looks at the person that makes Natasha stops sparring, half-expecting it to be Clint but it turns out, it's a dark haired woman in suits and high heels.

It's his handler, Commander Maria Hill.

'Well, there's a bunch of crusty old men who do nothing but wasting my time.' Maria Hill says coolly, taking off her blazer. Natasha takes it from her, and she acts like she's done it for dozens of times. 'I could have gotten out of it quicker, but those idiots don't seem to understand simple English. I've made myself completely clear.'

'You know what, Hill? Sometimes you tend to be quite... confusing.'

'Not to you and Barton.'

'And Fury, yes. But you need to work on it, I mean, communication skill.' Noticing her friend's expression Natasha rolls her eyes. 'You stubborn asshole.'

'Yeah, I get that a lot. Thanks.'

Natasha rolls her eyes again at her friend's sarcastic reply.

'How's DC anyway? I mean, other than Congress. Anything fun?'

'Sadly, no.'

During the battle, the two didn't communicate much and after the battle and the funeral, they went separate ways. Natasha went to Budapest with Clint for three weeks while Hill, on the other hand, left for Washington and various classified locations to deal with the aftermath. There was no sign of them being close, Steve thinks, but now the two women interact in such a way that they seem to know each other for a very long time.

'Still got that stuff?'

'Yep. More than enough.'

'Cool,' Natasha smirks. 'I'm in.'

'Okay. Come over to... no, tomorrow. I've got something on tonight,' she says. 'Bring Barton only if he promises not to bring his toys.'

'Ah, the old good time,' Natasha looks, and then turns to him (finally). 'Hey Rogers, wanna join us? Hill has the best beer from Cambodia – what is it called again?'

'-Angkor beer. I didn't say you can just in-'

Natasha cuts her across. 'We should have some bonding session, you know, to welcome Rogers to the 21st century.'

'I don't think I should join you,' he says, noticing Maria Hill's expression when Natasha asked him to come. 'Not when the host hardly knows me.'

Natasha looks at the lieutenant. 'Oh come on, Hill.'

'Well, you're right. I hardly know you,' Maria says. She pauses, looking at him with her piercing blue eyes, which makes him somewhat nervous. It reminds him of the way the recruit officer looked at him when he lied about his hometown to join the military, although he's not lying now. It's at that moment he realises this is not someone he should mess with, as she seems to possess the ability to look through people.

'But I guess I could make an exception for this time, a bonding session between fellow agents, or whatever Romanov wants to call it.' She says. Her silver blue eyes fixate on him. 'I have certain rules for guests in my apartment. First, no strong cologne or fragrance in the house, no expletives and lastly, no sleep over. If you get drunk, which I doubt it would ever happen given your condition,' she gestures to all of him, from shoulder to leg. 'Get a cab or something. I'm not going to let anyone stay. Is that clear?'

'It's Captain America you're talking to, Hill.' Natasha smirks. 'Right, Rogers? You're a rule-follower. You won't break vases or puke on her Galadriel poster- oh, wait. That's what Barton and I would do.'

Maria tries her best not to roll her eyes. Yeah, he can tell that, although he doesn't know Maria for long.

'So you get it?'

'Pardon?' he suddenly realises she's talking to him. 'Oh, sure. Of course.'

'Then you're welcome to join us.'

He doesn't notice it at the moment, but a few days later when he looks at his sketches he realises the lieutenant has a really nice smile.

**Thoughts? **

**PS: I'm so, so excited for The Hobbit. Love the first two installments to the moon and back. Gonna catch it on Friday, ha. **


	3. Unravel

**Act three**

**Unravel**

It's a simple gathering, Maria says to herself. They are going to have Thai food and beer, and after a few cans of beer Natasha would begin to bitch about how incompetent the junior agents are (she has to agree with the redhead) while Barton would usually go into her kitchen to look for more beer, break some plates and some china and that would be all.

_It hardly makes any difference with Rogers' presence._

Although she's been telling herself that for hours, she can't help but feel a bit nervous for having someone she doesn't really know in her apartment. _Her_ apartment for god's sake, is the only thing she has that doesn't have any relation with her work, and also the place she can go to after work. She's fine with Romanov and Barton (plus Coulson, in the past) at her place, as she sees them more than mere colleagues. But Rogers? He's nothing more than a colleague to her and in fact, she doesn't even want to acknowledge him as her colleague, just to be honest.

However, she can't say she hates Steve Rogers. He's quiet and polite, and most importantly he hasn't cause any trouble _yet. _She reckons he wouldn't be like Stark but she has to be wary nonetheless.

At work or not, she is always meticulous.

At seven thirty precisely someone knocks at her door. She puts down her book and takes a look at the security surveillance monitor. Rogers is standing outside with a few bags in his hand. She bites her lower lips and opens the door for him.

'You're punctual.' She says to him as the supersoldier enters her apartment. 'And you brought food.'

'I eat a lot.' He gives her a shy smile. She only returns it with a smile, and keeps reminding herself not to appear to be too friendly in front of him. 'I'm worried that there will be no enough food for you, and for Natasha and Clint, of course.' He quickly adds.

'Don't worry. We can always order more if anyone's still hungry.' She closes the door and gestures him to sit on the couch. 'Any idea where's the pair?'

He shakes his head.

'Natasha asked me to come first.' he looks at the book she left on the couch. 'Oh, you were reading just now. Did I disturb you? I'm sorry.'

'No, not at all. Don't worry.' She keeps her novel away. 'They're always late. I thought you would have come with them.'

Then, there is a moment of awkward silence between them. She then brings him to her study room, a decision she regrets a lot, a lot because she never expects Rogers to be so book-hungry. He begins to read and she can't seem to make him stop as he is so absorbed in the books she handed him.

Well, she just happens to have a collection of history-related books.

Around eight thirty when her doorbell rings she secretly heaves a sigh of relief. She goes to get the door, and tries not to appear too glad to see Barton and Romanov.

**ooo**

'Seriously, you're still hungry?' Barton asks in disbelief. 'You just broke my record, Cap.'

Rogers smiles shyly in her direction, which makes her nervous for a moment or two. She doesn't understand why he still makes something in her stir. At first she thought that is because he's Coulson's idol. He did make her nervous when she first saw him on the helicarrier. Well, any man will do if his first handler's #1 idol (who is supposed to be dead almost seven decades ago) is standing in front of him. She still remembers how excited Coulson was, and she bets this is the very reason why Clint and Natasha are nice to him. Like really friendly, sincere kind of tries to be nice to him, too. She talks to him at the funeral. She invites him to a gathering which is supposed to be private.

However, she knows she can never be as nice as her friends. This is not something she can do according to rules or instructions or Hill doesn't like superheroes and there's nothing can change that.

'You do know he has super metabolism, do you?' Romanov rolls her eyes and passes Rogers her soup. 'You have frozen pizza or something? Make him one or he's gonna starve to death.'

'Oh,' it takes her quite a while to realise Romanov is actually talking to her. 'I have a few.'

Rogers quickly gets on his feet. 'No, no. It's okay. You don't have t-'

'I insist.' She says as she leaves the dining area for kitchen.

Rogers follows her. She tries not to look at him.

**ooo**

'You don't like me.'

It's an observation, not assumption. His tone and expression make this fairly apparent.

'No, I don't.'

She can just avoid answering him. She's well aware of that fact but she figures that's the bit of truth he deserves to know.

'Is it because of something I've said or done?' he asks politely. 'I apologise if I offended you in any way. I didn't mean it.'

'No you didn't. You're nice.'

She turns away to remove the pizza from the oven and puts it on a plate.

'Then why are you… ignoring me?' his voice is low. 'You didn't look at me throughout the dinner. You didn't speak much.'

'Because I'm not like you,' she hands him the plate. 'I'm not nice.'

'I know what people says behind your back although I'm not officially working in SHIELD yet.' he says to her as she's washing her hand at the sink. 'And those aren't true.'

'You only know me for slightly more than a month. You hardly know me.'

'Sometimes you don't need a long time to really know someone, Maria.' he says quietly before leaving the kitchen. 'Sometimes you just know.'


	4. A Help In Need

**A/N: Some of you may have already read this chapter, as it is originally from another story of mine. I've made the decision to merge these two stories into one. Not a good idea, I know, but I can't think of a better way to do this. :(**

* * *

**Act four – a help in need**

With the super-human strength he gained from the serum he can fight his way out of any army or terrorist without any aid, but Steve is a soldier, and no soldier fights alone. That is why he can't understand why he is sent to this mission alone.

'You stopped Schmidt all by yourself so this shouldn't be a problem to you, Rogers,' she says coolly. 'I don't see a need to assign a partner to you.'

'But Commander-'

'You're dismissed.'

.

He is surrounded by 20 armed terrorists, and he haa a hostage to rescue. He doesn't think Natasha and Clint can multitask under this kind of situation if they were doing it alone. He should have requested for a partner.

"Mission report, Rogers." He hears her voice from the earpiece. "What's going on?"

"I'm surrounded by 20 men, all armed. I can't protect the hostage while fighting the bad guys."

"I'll send backups to you." She says after pausing for a short while. "They'll be ready in 10 minutes."

"No that'll be too late."

She doesn't answer, but 2 minutes later he knows why she didn't say anything.

She was getting ready- with guns and grenades.

Maria Hill is his only backup in this mission.

"I won't apologise because it's not my fault that we had incomplete intel!" She shouts to him as she throws a grenade to distract the men they are fighting against. "I did everything I could so you better don't say anything!"

"But you knew the intel was incomplete!" He shouts back as he helps to block her attacker's blow. "That's why you came here with me!"

"No that's why I sent you instead of other agents, Rogers!" She spits. "If I send the others they might die but you, the greatest soldier in the history might actually succeed!"

"You-" He looks at her, momentarily forgets that they are still in a battlefield.

"Watch out, Rogers." She says coolly as she shoots someone behind him without even looking at the target. "I might not be able to save you next time."

'I need a team, Commander." He says firmly. "Fighting alone wouldn't work."

"Oh why do you think I'm here, Rogers?" She puts her guns back as all the men collapse to the ground. "You think I won't leave you fighting these idiots alone?"

He is fighting for words to retort back but he realises she is right. She could have left him alone in the desert yet she chooses to help him. However, he is still angry with her for being so reckless to place so much confidence in him to bring back all the hostages on his own.

But during the de-briefing he realises it was Fury's plan after all, trying to get him work with other people before Natasha was assigned to be in his team, and that Fury planned to send other agents but it was the lieutenant who volunteered to help him to "warm up" before he starts partnership with the assassin. She said that the mission was relatively dangerous and that any unexperienced agent might get the hostages killed.

"I don't want to lose any man, or let Captain America to take any risk."

"Maria never planned to have you fight alone," Natasha tells him when they are out for the first mission together. "She wanted to make sure you completely understand there are circumstances that you'll need a partner to help you. That's why she showed up at the last minute. That was her plan after all."

"I know I need a partner." He is still a bit angry. "What makes her think that I won't let people to help me?"

"I heard stories," Natasha pauses for a few moments before she continues. "When she was younger she was very close with one of the agents, and he died in a mission where he didn't wait for the backups and did everything at his own accord."

"So he and she, they were-" Steve finds his throat goes dry, but the spy shakes her head.

"Maria knows better to believe in love. That's how she survives in the world of spies and killers, Cap."

"What about you? You still think that love is for children?"

She nods.

"But you're with Clint, isn't it?"

"I had too much red in my ledger. I'm too busy wiping them out but Clint-" Her voice is low. "Sometimes he makes me feel like a child again."

Both of them are so deep in their own thoughts before Natasha speaks again.

"Well Rogers, I wish one day Maria can find someone who makes her feel childlike too."

Seeing her smirking, he immediately realises all she said just now is to get him thinking of Maria.

_God, no. Not another matchmaking. _

"Not you too, Natasha. I don't like her. Not in the romantic way."

"Then why were you so mad at her just now?" Natasha actually smiles. "I thought you were someone who would never question orders."

"I was mad because she thought- I thought-"

"That you're an arrogant asshole?" She laughs as she shakes her head. "Maria never judges. She looks like she doesn't have a heart but trust me, she cares and she's very nice."

.

After he returns from the mission he goes to the lieutenant's office but only to find her office door not closed. Curious, he opens the door slightly and sees her sleeping on her desk. The next day he is asked to leave his report on her desk because she is away again, this time to Chile.

Along with the report, he leaves a portrait of her fighting when they were in Middle East, and a note on the back of the portrait.

_Thank you._

And he signs below the portrait as _S. G. Rogers _

.

The next time he meets her it's almost a month later.

He stands before the sandbag, undoing the strips on his wrist and she walks to him, wearing only a white tank top with grey sweatpants.

'Yes, Commander?'

He stares at her face and swallows. He's certain that if he ever lowered his gaze to somewhere other than her face, Maria will grab his collar and punch him without second thought.

Her lips are lifted slightly, almost a smile, as if she knew what was going through his mind at that very moment.

'Well, Rogers-'

His stomach churns when he hears her voice.

'I didn't know that you can draw that well.'

'Ugh... Thanks.' He swallows again. Talking to her reminds him of how he felt when he was talking to Peggy. 'I hope you like it.'

"I do." She says before she walks away to use the treadmill.

To be honest, Steve can't tell she is being sincere or mere polite. It's always hard for him to figure out how women's mind works. First with Peggy, now with her.

_Why does she always make it so hard?_

Frustrated, he gives the sandbag another punch.


	5. Book & Coffee

**Act five – book &amp; coffee**

Steve has always loved coffee, before and after the Project Rebirth. Although caffeine has little effect on him, he sees no reason to resist the aroma of black coffee and to enjoy the taste of it, not to mention the blue mug sitting in front of him contains the best coffee he can ever find in New York.

Well, the person who makes this used to be a barista, of course, just for a mission, but she got really serious about coffee making since that particular mission.

He smiles, and opens his eyes.

Maria is stirring her coffee quietly, not making any conversation and yes, he's grateful for that comfortable silence between them. It's easier this way, he thinks, to get along with her since he never has the chance to learn how to talk to a woman.

.

_The four of them had another gathering. This time, the atmosphere was noticeably lighter. She smiled to him this time, occasionally, given that they'd known each other better after the mission in Middle East and after he gave her that portrait. _

_This time he offered to help her to prepare food, since he arrived early again. She let him help, although under protest. She taught him how to cook and he was a fast learner. By the time the duo arrived he'd already learnt at least five basic dishes, which he decided to try it out back in his apartment. _

'_Come on, Clint, look at them,' Natasha said to her partner as they entered the kitchen. 'I told you they look compatible.'_

'_Excuse me, I think I'm the first person who brought this up.' Clint replied while stealing some fries from the pan. 'I was the one who told you Cap and Hill would make the most powerful couple in SHIELD.'_

_Maria responded by rolling her eyes at her friends before turning back to the stove. _

_._

_It was a wonderful night. Clint and Natasha left around 12 and offered to give him a ride, but he declined, saying he wanted to help to clean up before leaving. Maria didn't say anything, so he took it as a yes and stayed to help._

_He wiped the plates and bowls carefully, not to break them because he knew she took care of her things fairly well. The kitchen was clean and shiny, and the kitchenware was well maintained although she hardly cooked. _

_Yes, she told him that when he asked her if she knew how to actually make a pizza. _

_He helped her to take out the garbage, and when he came back the dining area was already mint and pristine. She, on the other hand, stood in the middle of the living room, looking as fresh as she was just now. _

_She gestured him towards her study room._

_He hesitated, but he followed her into the room nonetheless._

_She tiptoed and tried to get a book from the top shelf. He offered to help, but she just ignored him. After a while she finally reached the book she wanted and took it In her hand. She smiled (to the book) and cleaned the dust on it. _

'_This is for you.'_

'_For what?'_

'_Helping out.'_

_He frowned. He didn't intend to ask anything in return for his help. However, seeing that determined look from the bottom of those silver blue eyes, he figured the only option he had now was to accept the book. _

'_Thanks.'_

_He stared at the three stars on the cover of the book, briefly wondered if she was making fun of him. However, he knew it was merely preconception he had when he began reading it. _

_Never Surrender. It sounded like something he'd say, he thought. He wondered if that was the reason she chose to give him this book. However, he found himself enjoying the book more than he imagined he would. It was inspiring, and thankfully there was no over spiritualizing here. It was something he could agree with._

_He didn't realise he'd been standing there to read for almost two hours when she failed to stifle a yawn in front of him._

'_I'm sorry,' he immediately apologized. 'Why didn't you ask me to stop?' _

'_I didn't want to disturb you,' she says to him. 'Why don't you read this in the living room? I will make coffee.'_

'_Ugh…'_

'_I won't take no as an answer.' She said briskly. _

'_Well, thank you then.'_

.

Since then, they've grown closer.

It's like a secret between them, as they still maintain professional at work place. It's always 'Captain Rogers' and 'Commander Hill'. However, when he's just Rogers instead of Captain Rogers, he would drop by her apartment from time to time to borrow books from her. For some reasons, he can always find the book he likes in her study room. It seems like they have very similar taste for books and well, coffee.

When he's at her place, he would stand behind her, watching her grind the beans and brew it. He would then help her to pour it into the mug, and she lets him do it, with the slightest smile ever on her sans makeup face.

Her smile always reminds him of Peggy's, although he's aware of the fact that the two women are very different from each other. Peggy's like an open door, never afraid to show her emotions and feelings and Maria, on the other hand, is close and reserved. She doesn't reveal her emotions and thoughts, but he can sense that warm hearted side she hides behind the stoic mask she wears to work every day.

It was an occasional occurrence at first, for him to come and read with her but slowly, it becomes a ritual. They don't usually talk, just like what they do today, and he won't feel awkward or uncomfortable around her. He realises she's just a quiet person, and she has certainly nothing against him.

_It's not personal, you know, that I don't like you, _she said to him when he came over with baked goods. They were eating blueberry muffins when she brought it up. _It's personal to me, maybe. I umm, prefer not to talk about it but I really don't want you to misunderstand. _

He didn't tell her back then, but secretly he thinks she doesn't dislike him as much as she thinks she does.

'Hey,' she says casually. Her gaze never leaves the journal she's reading. 'Lunch?'

'Sounds good to me.'

'It must be, since I've been hearing your stomach since an hour ago,' she says dryly.

'I suppose that's not the right music to listen to when you're reading.'

She almost smiles. 'I don't think you want frozen pizza, do you?'

'No I don't,' he laughs again. 'You decide the place, then. I don't know any good restaurant.'

'Well,' she bites her lower lips. 'I was actually thinking about pizza just now.'

He finishes the last bit of his coffee.

'Seriously?'

She doesn't say anything, but he can catch the tiniest hint of smile in her eyes. It's that moment, that precise moment he realises overcoming grief sometimes doesn't need time. All he needs is a simple gesture, or random act of kindness and love.

Perhaps it's that simple, but maybe because it's so simple, it's also hard.

He doesn't think about it that much. Not anymore.


	6. Late Night Call

**A/N: I didn't plan to update this so soon, but I got my results back yesterday and I'm so, so happy about it. :D**

**I hope you like this chapter! This is my second fav chapter so far. :)**

* * *

**Act six – late night call**

**Or, two lonely people find solace in each other.**

It happens again.

(And everyone thinks he doesn't drink, huh?)

Steve laughs to himself, finishing the vodka in his glass while mentally cursing himself for not being able to get drunk.

The doctor's serum is both a blessing and a curse to him, as he's blessed with good health and slow ageing process. Yet, it also means that he has to witness all his loved ones leave him, one by one.

He grits his teeth and throws the glass at the wall, and then he punches the wall so hard until it cracks. He knows he's not crying- his face is dry but his heart is bleeding everytime he realises he'd already missed his chance at love with Peggy.

The people he knew are either dead or too old to recognise him; Peggy belongs to the later group.

He knews about her condition. When Maria gave him the file which contains her contact details, she told him about dementia briefly, but enough to let him realise the love of his life might not remember him.

_He brought her flowers. Lilies, to be exact. He went into the florist and got them for her, as the flowers remind him of exactly how Peggy is like – elegant, beautiful, special. He mentally prepared himself before knocking at the door, kept telling himself that this might lead to another disappointment, just like the time when he found out Howard and his wife passed away in a car accident years ago while his only son, Tony Stark is nothing like him._

_He opened the door and it revealed an old, frail woman on the bed. At the age of 93, Peggy has moved to a retirement home because of her condition. The nurse inside the room smiled to him, which later only he recognized as a sympathetic one._

_He didn't understand why it hurt so much when Maria's words came true._

'_She doesn't recognise anyone. Even if she does, it doesn't last long.'_

He hasn't visited her since the last visit.

.

It's never a good timing for drawing after drinking. He's not drunk but really, it doesn't really change the fact that he can't draw a single thing right now.

He's angry, frustrated and impatient. The lines he drew are rough and skewed. The face, the figure and the ratio are all wrong. He tears the page from the sketchbook when he gets it wrong, and the more he tears the more he gets frustrated.

All out of sudden he feels so helpless, even more than the first time he found himself in the new world after the sleep as he realises he has slowly lost the ability to draw, especially to draw people he cares about. He can't quite remember the curl of Bucky's lips when he smiled. The image of Peggy in that beautiful red dress is slowly fading from his memory. His mother, her loving hands and smiles when she took care of him…

'Damn it!'

He crumples the paper and throws it into the wall after the fourh trial. He then buries his face in his hands and breathes deeply- something his therapist has been teaching him to do when he feels stressed. Usually it works, but today nothing seems to be able to calm him down.

He rises from the chair and kicks it away in rage.

.

Maria curls up in the bed, holding her cell and waiting for a call from heaven. Yeah, heaven, since the person had died in a mission that went wrong many, many years ago. Smiling to herself bitterly, she lets go of the phone and rolls to the other side of the oversized bed. Staring at the horribly vandalised wall, she murmurs the name of the person who haunts her all these time.

If she hasn't promised Romanov not to touch any hard liquor again, she would get herself as drunk as a skunk tonight.

She remembers she once read this,

"_When someone you love dies, and you're not expecting it, you don't lose her all at once; you lose her in pieces over a long time—the way the mail stops coming, and her scent fades from the pillows and even from the clothes in her closet and drawers. Gradually, you accumulate the parts of her that are gone. Just when the day comes—when there's a particular missing part that overwhelms you with the feeling that she's gone, forever—there comes another day, and another specifically missing part."_

She didn't understand it at the time, since she never really loved anyone but now she does. There's not a single day that goes by that she doesn't think of him.

A thousand memories and moments, words, the first mission, the second time they met each other outside of work, a thousand memories of his face, his voice, moments of anger and laughter flashes like the tail of a comet across her brain.

Overwhelmed by grief, she buries her face in the pillow and starts crying.

.

Hearing his voice makes her happier than she's willing to admit. She doesn't know why she chose to call him earlier, when she could actually give Barton and Romanov a call.

'Sorry, I was busy just now,' he pauses. 'SHIELD business?'

His voice is calm and soothing as always, but she can sense something different beneath that calmness somehow.

She forces a smile on her face, although she knows he can't possibly see it.

'Oh, no. Not SHIELD. We're good. No signs of world war three yet.'

He laughs at the other end of the phone. 'Yeah, I think we did a great job preventing that.'

Then, there's a long moment of silence. For a moment she's run out of words to say to him. Perhaps it's because of the timing. The quietness and the loneliness in the air surround, suffocating her.

Both of them say nothing. It's becoming a usual thing for them to be quiet over phone calls, she realises, as it happens several times before, usually after a bad mission or a bad dream. She doesn't tell him about her dreams, neither him.

The silent conversation between them can last for hours, if she doesn't hang up first and under normal circumstances, she doesn't.

Her apartment is so quiet that she can hear his breathing. Slow, deep and even. For some reasons she seems to feel more at ease than earlier when she hears him breathing, or she should say knowing that he's right there makes everything seems... tolerable. It's not love, not at all. He's just someone who reminds her of the other man, someone who used to bring her peace.

A peaceful mind is hard to possess, even though it is a simple thing itself.

She doesn't like feelings. Feelings make one lose discretion and rationality. People make wrong decisions when they let feelings lead their hearts. She's different. She's able to push everything aside and deal with the work at hand but she realises she's slowly let herself become sentimental.

Sentimental. She shudders at the thought of it. She always thinks sentiment is a chemical substance often found on the losing side, and with a job like hers she can't afford to lose. She has to win this, to win against her own demons to prove that she's not weak. She's not a coward like the man who raised her.

'Maria,' he speaks first, breaking the silence between them.

She doesn't say anything back. She doesn't know what to say to him. At a moment she considers to tell him he's the only person who uses her given name in the past six years, but then she decides it's not the time. Not yet.

She bites her lower lip, and waits for him to continue.

.

He asks her if she wants to have supper together, and she says yes, without much hesitation.

He's glad that she's said yes, because that's only an excuse he uses so that he can see her tonight.

He doesn't tell her why he needs to see her. He knows he doesn't have to.

He never asks her why, either, when she asks him if he wants to stay after the supper.

There are things that people trying so hard to leave behind, and the strange thing is that they never actually go away. They leave a trace, always, somewhere on one's face, voice, gesture or the eyes, in the depth of the heart and it reflects on the soul.

He can recognise one with that unique mark.

.

She has to admit that there's something in him that inspires loyalty. Most of the time, trust comes with loyalty. It's an observation that she's made based on other agents' attitude towards him. She's loyal to him.

Loyal to a cause, perhaps.

But what cause would that be? Alien invasion or another global catastrophe?

Under the light of a thousand stars, she starts questioning herself over her stand against Avengers initiative. She wonders if she has let herself get personal over this matter, although her points do make sense.

_If we let them protect us, then who would protect us from them? _

.

He doesn't know why a lost-in-thoughts Maria reminds him of Peggy again.

_She doesn't look anything like Peggy_, Steve tells himself, but somehow being with her brings back a lot of memories which he had with Peggy.

Perhaps there's a second chance.

Just, perhaps.

'Why are you smiling?' she asks. Her voice is softer than usual.

He looks into the stars, and tries to clear his thoughts.

'Because I just realise... well, I realise things we lost... things we lost always have a way of coming back to us, maybe not in the way we expect them to be, or maybe when we least expect them to,' he adds. 'And I'm really, really grateful for that.'

He smiles a little, and the smile broadens when she smiles back. He likes her smile. It always makes her look softer, younger and warmer.

'There's a line from Harry Potter about this,' her face brights up a little. 'It's one of my favourites. Not exactly the same, but quite similar.'

He turns to her, and frowns. 'Harry Potter?'

'Oh, come on Steve. You _have_ to read Harry Potter-'

Smiling, she takes him by the palm.

'_Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not in the way we expect.'_

\- J.K. Rowling, _Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix_

* * *

**_Review please. :)_**


	7. Into The Light

**_This came out of nowhere._ **

* * *

**Act seven – into the light**

Her drawing skill improves a little these days because she's been taking classes and no, that is _not _because Coulson teased her about it. She doesn't need his approval to be able to do her work. She outranks him, for God's sake.

(Okay, maybe her pride hurts a little, and she refuses to admit that she, Maria Hill, has a weakness. Plus, drawing skills may come in handy for the next assignment. Undercover, or something. Whatever. She has a problem and she's going to fix it.

And that was a porcupine. It was _**not **_a poop.)

"This is great," says Steve, smiling. She turns around and sees him standing next to her, checking out her "artwork". She calls it awful shit; he calls it artwork. Anyway. "The tone is considerably lighter this time. Good effort. You've been practicing a lot, I suppose?"

"I've been finding time to practice." She admits reluctantly. "I might have doodled on a mission report that was supposed to submit to Director Fury."

"What was his reaction?" he manages to muffle a laugh, but his expression betrays him anyway.

She tries not to roll her eyes. "Of course I got rid of it before submitting. Do you think I would have made that kind of mistake?"

"No, I don't think you would." He grins.

(Well, well. That is technically not true. She always has the habit of doodling, even when her drawing was literally shit. The only time she forgot to erase the evidence of her drawing was the one time she doodled on Ward's file, but she had made Coulson not to tell anyone. As for Ward… She doesn't think he would tell anyone.)

"When can I learn to draw other stuff? Like, you know, something other than pens and paperclips." She says, showing him her work. "I think I'm quite ready for anything other than that."

He chuckles. "I think you're too anxious to prove someone wrong." When she looks at him he goes, "What? I may not be as smart as Bruce or Tony, but I'm not dumb, you know."

"Of course I know," she says wryly. "I made it a little obvious, I think."

"You never do subtle," he agrees, laughing slightly. "So who is it you want to show off your skills to?"

"I wasn't planning on showing off!" she says indignantly, reaching for the cushions on the sofa and throwing at him. He ducks, laughing like she just cracked a joke. "Stephen Grant Rogers, I'm warning you— I know where you live. I've got your medical record and insurance. I even have your social security number. One wrong move and I'll make your life miserable."

"May I know what kind of move will be considered as a 'wrong move'?" he said, half-smiling.

"Oh, don't smile at me like that," she finds herself giggling at him, which is weird because she can't quite remember when was the last time she had so much fun with someone. Was it the time where she camped in Semenyik with Barton? Or was it Jake, when they broke the rules, sneaking out of the Academy together?

Jake…

Is it wrong to forget him and to enjoy the company of another man? Is it okay to be happy when he's no longer around? She finds herself asking many questions in her head but never get an answer for any of them.

For a long time, she doesn't utter a word, and Steve must have sensed something wrong because the moment she realizes she had trailed off just now, he is already on the sofa. No, they are on the sofa together. He has placed his jacket on her, because she doesn't remember putting it on.

"I don't understand. Why am I—"

"It's okay. I'm here, Maria. I'm here." He says quickly. "Can I— No, I mean, should I— Should I touch you?"

She doesn't speak, but she gives him a nod.

"Okay." he says softly, slowly and carefully spreading his arms around her. "If you don't feel like doing this anymore, just—just tell me. I won't do anything— No, I mean, I—"

She rests her chin on his broad shoulder, breathing more easily than she did just now. She feels him relaxed a little, hands brushing her back gently.

"Jake," she says finally. "God, Jake... I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he says softly, gently sliding his hand to her waist to hold her closer. "I'm here with you, Ria."

"You're not real, are you?" She shakes her head, trying to get him out of her head. Jake's dead. He's not here. He cannot be here. "How can you possibly… I left you there… I didn't even try…"

"_I'll never leave you in the dark, Maria."_

Something stirs inside her. She pulls back, staring at him , trying to find something and then, slowly, she leans in to kiss him.

.

Morning light creeps into the living room from the wide open window. She looks around. Steve isn't around. She is convinced that she had imagined what happened last night until she smells… well, food.

_Classic Steve. _

She takes a deep breath, walking to the kitchen slowly with her tablet in hand.

"Morning." he says pleasantly. His smile is polite. "What do you want to eat for breakfast?"

She opens her mouth, wanting to ask him to leave but hesitates when she realizes she is indeed very hungry. She sighs, putting her tablet on the dining table (there is already a small mountain of toasts over there) and then returns to the kitchen.

"Scrambled eggs." She says. "I'm starting to wonder if you're real, soldier."

"Why?" A laugh escapes his mouth as he opens her fridge to look for eggs. "Because I'm making breakfast?"

"Because you stayed despite what happened last night."

"Oh, that." he says, closing the door of the fridge. "It's nothing, really."

His ears are quickly turning red. For some reasons Maria thinks it's best if she doesn't ask why. There are answers that she can't afford to give or have.

"Where did you sleep last night?" she asks, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the coffee machine. "Couch or bed?"

"Couch."

"You must be the only person survived staying with me for more than a couple of hours." She notes his expression and raises her brows. "What? You work with the STRIKE. You know what they call me behind my back."

"I don't care about that," he argues. "You don't learn about a person from someone else's comment."

"Okay then," she says, finishing her coffee before putting it down and crossing her arms across her chest. "What have _you_ learnt about me?"

"You don't trust easily." He says, shifting his focus to the eggs instead. She watches him beating eggs with seasonings. "But when you decide to trust someone, you trust them unconditionally. The way you trust Natasha and Clint. Occasionally Jasper, but for some reasons you're wary of him"

He cuts a small piece of butter and put it into the heated pan. As the butter melts, he pours the egg mixture. Soon, she can smell the cooked eggs in the air and suddenly, her mouth waters.

"You worry your way through things. You make sure there is always a backup plan, sometimes more, because you're worried that things may go south. You will get up in the middle of the night to make final changes for extraction protocols because you want to get every crew back," he says without looking at her, removing the eggs from the pan. "You don't want to carry any more cross than you already have."

Her hand reaching for the plates in the cupboard stops in mid air, but only for the briefest moment. She keeps her expression neutral, then she takes the plates out and bring them to him.

"Do I want to know how you know about me getting up in the middle of the night?"

"I didn't—" His face flusters. "I was just guessing."

"Don't worry. I'm joking. I do that sometimes." Somehow she manages to force a smile on her face. "I'm sorry about what happened last night. I shouldn't do that. That was… unprofessional."

"It's okay." He says, and Maria notices even his ears have turned red by now. You needed… comfort."

Looking at Steve's flustered face, it strikes Maria that it might be his first kiss in like, seventy years. Feeling heat rising in her cheeks, she immediately looks away.

"It won't happen again, I promise." _God, this is awkward_**.** "I won't bother you if it happens again."

She finishes the rest of her sentence in whispers, but apparently his enhanced hearing skill has helped him to pick up every word she just said because a moment later, when they finish eating he speaks casually, like the matter simply crosses his mind for no reason.

"I told you about my dreams. You remember?" He says, studying her expression. "You can tell me yours if you want to."

She nods, realizing this conversation is very much planned. He has probably been rehearsing it hours before she woke up.

"I promise I won't tell anyone." He says, and she purses her lips. Of course she knows he wouldn't tell anyone. He's a good listener and knows when to keep his mouth shut. But she lets him continue. "If I have assumed too much—"

"I joined SHIELD when I was twenty three," she interjects. "They recruited me from Armed Force, assigned me to Agent Victoria Hand as my mentor. She's in charge of The Hub."

She doesn't know why he, out of all people, makes her want to share. Even when Romanoff dragged her out of the pub because she'd been drinking for weeks, she didn't tell her anything.

"I think I've heard of her," Steve frowns a little. "Tall, wearing glasses, doesn't like to be kept waiting."

"That's her," she nods. "I was a fast learner. I was very good at my job. Agent Hand liked me. Gave me a lot of opportunity. I was sent in the field and worked with handlers occasionally. My team had the highest success rate. We were good.

"SHIELD received intel from reliable sources that a group of local terrorists had taken forty children as hostage in Bogota. We flew there, worked with the local police and realized they had bombs and grenades to blow off the entire compound. We called the Hub. They sent backup, but they were never going to make it in time. The terrorists were going to blow the building any second. And then—" She releases the breath she doesn't know she is holding. "And then, I made the wrong call."

"You didn't wait for the backup."

"No," she corrects him. "He didn't wait." _Damn. _She realizes when he doesn't look surprised. _Romanoff must have told him. _She makes a mental note to assign the upcoming CPH4 mission to Romanoff and continues. "I was too late to stop him. He went in alone, freed all those children and killed a few terrorists. But then… but then the bomb went off when he was still inside. And I did nothing to save him. I left him there to die."

His eyes widen, but he says, after giving it a thought. "It wasn't your fault. Yes, losing one man was—is terrible, but losing the whole team is worse. You did what was right."

She wants to rebuke, but there is nothing she can say.

"Is that why you said you're not nice?" he asks, pauses for a while and then he continues. "Sirius once told Harry this, and now I want to say the same thing to you: You're not a bad person. You're a good person who bad things have happened to. The world isn't spilt into good people and villains, you know."

"There are grey areas."

"Exactly. It's never easy to do what's right, or to let go of the past and move on." He continues. "Sometimes I still dream of Buck and Peggy. Sometimes I get upset when I can't even send a text. I get angry. I get edgy. Sometimes we are overwhelmed by the darkness inside us, but it's okay as long as we know there's light inside us too."

She takes a minute to let the message sink in.

_Light and darkness. _

After spending almost a decade in SHIELD making hard decisions, she can no longer differentiate which part she is acting on. But she thinks he can tell the difference. He's a good man. He always has been.

"If there are both darkness and light inside us, I figure you must be the light, Steve." She pauses, giving him a tiny smile. "The light of all lights."

* * *

**This chapter is very much inspired by Bram Stroker's Dracula &amp; JK Rowling's Harry Potter and the Order of Phoenix. **

**Thank you for reading. **


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